Partners
by leopion
Summary: An unexpected proposal shook Hermione to her core. Reeling, she staggered through the night and found herself in Malfoy's dungeons. Hermione thought it was the end, but it was really just the beginning... DM/HG
1. Runaway bride

**AN:** After a long time of procrastination, the revised version of Partners is finally up.

I want to send my sincerest thanks to Marmalade Fever, whose fic Eight and Eighth has inspired me to write this story; to Darkwinter999, who has written a wonderful summary for it; to my long-time betas Lolabri and S. A. Blossom, who has always given me the ultimate help in writing; to my new beta Olga, who has helped me revise the first eight chapters; and of course, to all of my reviewers, favourite adders and subscribers, without whom I wouldn't have had the encouragement to continue. A big thank-you to you as well, for taking the time to read/reread this story.

To clear all the confusion that may arise, this fic takes place in the summer after Voldemort's fall in DH. And of course, it isn't epilogue-compatible.

**Disclaimer:** I solemnly swear that I am no owner of Harry Potter.

**Partners – Chapter 1 - Runaway Bride**

by **Leopion**

Hermione Granger examined herself in the mirror. She looked just fine in a simple knee-length azure dress with matching high heels, her normally bushy brown hair pulled neatly into a French plait and tied with a blue silk ribbon. However, she still felt a bit uncomfortable. It was unusual for her to dress up like this. Then again, it was even more unusual for Ron to ask her out to dinner. When Hermione asked him what the occasion was, Ron merely shrugged and countered that whether he needed an occasion to take his girlfriend out on a date. Maybe Ron had finally grown up after all?

Taking one last look at her own reflection, Hermione walked out of her room and went downstairs. Ron was waiting in the living room, wearing a grey button-up shirt and a pair of charcoal trousers. _He looks smart and... different_, mused Hermione, her cheeks slightly coloured.

'You look gorgeous,' greeted Ron, making her blush even more.

'So do you,' she replied. Ron grinned broadly and took her hand. Together they Apparated to Hogsmeade and arrived in front of a restaurant with Baroque architecture that sported a sign with golden letters written in fancy calligraphy: 'The Royal Orchid'. Hermione was slightly startled; she had expected Ron to take her to somewhere more casual. Could he even afford dining in this extravagant place?

The host, who was wearing formal black dress robes, greeted them in the doorway.

'Good evening, sir, madam. May I help you?'

'Eh, Weasley, dinner for two,' replied Ron, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

The man then guided them to their table. As Hermione walked across the room, she couldn't suppress a gasp of admiration. There were delicately decorated candles floating in the air, casting soft golden light over the whole place. Immaculately white orchids embellished the beautiful architecture as their sweet scent filled the air. The couple arrived at a private booth overlooking the garden, where there was a fountain playing.

'Oh, Ron,' said Hermione when they were waiting for the waiter. 'I don't know what to—' she stopped abruptly as a small velvet box in Ron's hand caught her eye. Even though she had an idea what it was, she raised an eyebrow and blurted, 'What's in that box?'

Ron blushed and mumbled something barely audible, but Hermione could still make out the word 'marry'. That was it. She knew it! She knew from the start that there was something wrong with all of these romantic things!

'No!' she said angrily.

'Mione, please,' pleaded Ron.

'A no is a no, Ron. And don't "Mione" me.'

'But why? You love me, don't you?'

'Yes, I love you. Is that enough for you? A few years later, maybe I would have said yes. But not today.'

'But what's wrong with today? Dad proposed to Mum when they were eighteen too, you know.'

'But they had already finished their education and had jobs! We haven't even sat our N.E.W.T.s!'

'But—'

Hermione cut him off, 'No buts, Ronald Weasley.'

'Hermione!'

Hermione stalked out of the restaurant without a word, leaving Ron sitting in the booth looking dumbfounded. Luckily, the other couples were too caught up in their own matters to notice. Hermione stormed down the street, many passers-by getting out of her way as though she might blow them up if they didn't.

_Breathe, Hermione, breathe. You need to calm down_, she told herself. But how was she supposed to calm down? Ron had just proposed to her. She hadn't completed her education. She didn't even know if she could go back to Hogwarts. She had no job, no career, and Ron had just proposed to her! Had she mentioned that already? Well, her repetition of thoughts was not hard to understand regarding her currently fuzzy brain. All she could think of was to get far, far away from Ron—as far as possible. But she couldn't just walk around like this all night. It was pointless, and her heels were killing her. Hermione didn't know where to go either, so Apparition wasn't really an option. At that very moment, an idea occurred to her: She could take the Knight Bus and then think of her destination on the way.

* * *

Having been told by Harry about the Knight Bus's appearance, Hermione covered her ears and closed her eyes. Despite her attempts to disguise two of her senses, she could still hear a loud bang and feel the bright light beam through her closed eyelids. When she finally opened her eyes, the bus conductor had already leapt out of the bus and begun his speech. At first she thought it was Stan Shunpike with his protruding ears and pimply face, but then she realised that he looked younger.

'Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Steve Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening. Where do you want to go, Miss?'

_Ah, so he was Stan's brother!_

'Well, I don't exactly know yet. Can I uhm... just get on the bus and then think about it on the way?'

'Yes, of course. It's seven Sickles. You'll be paid back if it's a short journey or you'll have to pay extra fare if it's long.'

Hermione searched her beaded bag, which she terribly wished she hadn't cleared after the Horcrux hunt, and took out the money to pay while Steve began to go up the steps. Hermione followed; the two of them went past a fat snoring wizard and an extremely old witch before reaching a vacant bed at the end of the triple-decker.

Finally, having settled in her bed, she began to think of a destination. Where could she go now? There must be someone she knew who Ron wouldn't show up to harass while looking for her. Draco Malfoy?

...

Did she really just think that? Well, it did answer her question, literally. But it was certainly, definitely, absolutely not the answer to her problem. How could she ever—

'Next stop, Malfoy Manor. Here you go, Miss.'

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but didn't have a chance to say anything before being thrown out of the bus and slammed into what must be the gate. The next thing she saw was a dungeon cell. Oh, great! Now she had found a place to stay the night: Malfoy's dungeon of all the bloody places in the world.

* * *

'Well, well, well, let's see what we have here,' came a drawling voice from above. Hermione groaned. She really did not want to see Malfoy right now. But it was hard not to, wasn't it? This was _his_ house after all.

Malfoy appeared at the end of the passage. As he walked by, the torches on the wall lit up one after another, shedding dim light on the cold, damp dungeons.

'Didn't think that I'd live to see the day the _Mud_-princess came to our humble dungeons,' continued Malfoy, sarcasm evident in his voice. He had finally reached a spot right outside her cell and was leaning against the bars.

'Let me out!' yelled Hermione.

'Let you out? Tell me, Granger. Why would I ever want to do that?'

'You want to keep me here then? Didn't think you enjoy my company that much,' she teased.

'I thought that is for me to say considering you are the one who threw yourself at my door, dressing like that,' Malfoy smirked, cocking his head at her bare legs, then turned to leave. As if forgetting something, he stopped halfway through the passage, looking back at Hermione, and added with another trademark smirk on his face, 'Enjoy yourself, Granger.'

'You're going to pay for this, Malfoy,' burst out Hermione.

'Oh really? I'm scared,' he mocked.

'Yeah, you should be scared when the Ministry sends you to Azkaban to reunite with your parents.'

The words came out of Hermione's mouth before she could catch herself.

'I... I didn't mean to say that,' she whispered. For a fraction of a second, she almost thought that she saw a flash of pain in his eyes. But then he said emotionlessly, his eyes as cold and steely grey as ever, 'Say what you want to, Granger. I don't bloody care.'

And with that, he walked away, disappearing into the darkness.

* * *

Hermione was sitting on the cold stone floor. All of the torches had been extinguished as Malfoy left, so the only light in the cell right now was the pale moonlight gleaming through a small barred window. Hermione knew that in some castles there were windows in the dungeon cells that were level with the ground outside, but somehow she had pictured Malfoy's as the kind of darker, gloomier dungeon that ran deeply underground. Her mind shifted to their encounter earlier. She knew that she shouldn't have said such a mean thing, but she had said it anyway. The damage was done, though Hermione still couldn't shake the feeling of guilt rising in her stomach every time she recalled the flash of pain in his eyes. Then again, she could have been imagining it, couldn't she? There was only one thing that she knew for certain: Malfoy would never let her out of here after that.

However, on the bright side, she had found some Chocolate Frogs in her bag to feed her empty stomach. It had also made her brain operate much more efficiently. For instance, Hermione was able to recollect why she was chucked out of the bus earlier. It was stated in _A Book on Wizarding Transportation_ that if a passenger failed to specify their destination within the first thirteen miles, they would be thrown out. What a stupid rule that was! At least Steve was kind enough to tell her where she was going to be. Like that would make any difference.

Hermione had also come up with a plan of what she would do after getting out of this cell. She would go to the Burrow to collect her things then go to Grimmauld Place. It wouldn't guarantee not encountering Ron, but that was the best option Hermione had until her parents found a new house in Britain (she had already lifted the enchantment on them, but they would stay in Australia for a while seeing that their house had been sold when they moved). The question was, how she could get out of here? She had tried every spell she knew, but the bars wouldn't move an inch. She didn't have any luck with the lock either. Maybe it only opened for a Malfoy or something. Come to think of it, the torches did light up of their own accord when he came, and she didn't remember him using any incantations. Then again, they could have been non-verbal.

Hermione was lost in her thought when she heard a sound of flapping wings. A brown owl dashed through the bars of the small window and into her cell, dropped a package and flew away. It was a letter from Hogwarts. Hermione slit open the envelope and began to read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Dear Ms Granger,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you are invited back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for another year to complete your education. However, it is completely up to you to decide whether or not you wish to attend. The new school year will begin on September the first as usual._

_Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipments. We are looking forward to receiving your reply by owl by no later than July 31._

_Should there be any change, we will inform you as soon as possible._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Headmistress_

'Should there be any change, we will inform you as soon as possible?' read Hermione out loud in disbelief. She could swear that out of the corner of her eye, she saw the picture of Dumbledore on the Chocolate Frog Card wink at her through his half-moon spectacles.

**Disclaimer (cont.): **Mischief managed.

**AN: **I hope you enjoyed this chapter and would appreciate all of your comments.

Have a nice day!

Leo


	2. His worst nightmare

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own Harry Potter; Joanne Rowling does.

**Partners – Chapter 2 – His Worst Nightmare**

by **Leopion**

It was a fine summer night with gentle breezes rustling through the garden trees of Malfoy Manor. A crescent moon was shining brightly, spreading its silvery light over the serene scenery. Somewhere above the horizon, two tiny black dots stood out against the perfectly cloudless sky, growing larger and larger until two tawny owls came clearly into view. The sound of their flapping wings pierced through the silence of the night. One of them flew to an open balcony of the manor house, landing right in front of a tall male figure whose silvery blond hair seemed to shine in the moonlight. He quickly detached the package from the owl and unfolded the parchment inside.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY _

_Dear Mr Malfoy,_

_We are pleased to inform you that the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have decided to make a special arrangement in order to enable you to complete your education. A student in the same year as yourself who is experienced in Defence Against the Dark Arts will be assigned as your study partner. When the new school year begins on September the first, he or she will arrive at Malfoy Manor and then stay there until the N.E.W.T.s._

_All of the necessary books and equipments will be brought to you by a Ministry officer. We will inform you about further details of this arrangement soon._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Headmistress_

Draco replaced the letter into the envelope and walked back into his room. A student experienced in DADA? He strongly suspected it was Potter. Who would possibly be as experienced as the famous Hairy Bloody Potty who had just defeated the most powerful dark wizard of all time? Hairy Bloody Potty, indeed. Eww, the mental image of it made him sick. Draco reminded himself not to use this insult next time. Not that Potter didn't deserve it, but for the sake of his own mental health. Now he began to wonder if the worst thing about being under house arrest was that you couldn't leave or that your arch-enemies would constantly come to visit for some entertainment. In fact, that was exactly what he expected when he heard the alarm at the front gate go off and found out that it was Granger who got thrown into his dungeons. He'd had the pleasure of seeing Granger get angry, which was quite an amusing scene. Then it started to go wrong. He was supposed to be the one who hurt her, not the other way around. Not that she had actually hurt him. She had tried, though, by mentioning his parents. Like he would ever care.

_'You should be scared when the Ministry sends you to Azkaban to reunite with your parents.'_ Ha ha, how ironic! Considering all that was left of his father was a soulless body. And his mother... As weak and fragile as she was, how long could she last in Azkaban? It was funny how he sat here, pondering about her weakness when it was _his_ weakness that had led them to this. He laughed humourlessly. After all, it _was_ his weakness that had made him go to that bathroom and cry his eyes out like a little girl. It _was_ his weakness that had failed him at the very moment that victory came dancing right in front of his face. It _was_ his weakness that had made them suffer. Sometimes he used to wonder if he could be stronger... to protect them. But it didn't matter. Not anymore.

* * *

Draco woke up to the knocking sound on his bedroom door. He lazily opened his eyes only to see the hands of the antique clock on his bedside table pointing at four thirty.

'Stupid Knobbly!' he grumbled. That elf really did deserve some punishment. But since he had been awakened already, he might as well see what had made it dare wake him at this hour.

'Just come in, you bloody elf!'

However, the bloody elf never came. Instead, two men wearing uniforms of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad appeared at the door.

'Mister Malfoy,' said a bulky, austere-looking man with particularly dishevelled hair and clothes, 'we have detected a sign of Apparition from Malfoy Manor at twenty-five past four this morning. You are going to be sent to Azkaban.'

Draco immediately shot up from his bed. 'What?'

'What my partner has just said,' replied the other man, who was much shorter but more decent-looking, 'is that you have violated Clause Number Four in your sentence by using magic for Apparition. Therefore we are here in order to escort you to Azkaban.'

Apparition? Who the hell could have Apparated from his house with those security wards all over the place? Then he realised. Granger. He should have known. The cell she was in was the one designed especially for Muggles, which was why it had no Apparition wards. When Filsdedieu Malfoy came to England and built this manor, he himself had installed many powerful and complicated wards on every inch of the manor house as well as the grounds surrounding it, except one particular cell. Since creating wards and maintaining them demanded extremely powerful magic, Filsdedieu had decided that he shouldn't put it when unnecessary. He had obviously thought that only ignorant Muggles would walk straight to their front gate. So now Draco had to suffer the consequences. Anyway, who could blame his ancestor for not counting ignorant Mudbloods?

He took a moment to consider his options. The first one was to tell the truth that Granger was in one of his dungeons last night and that she might have Apparated out. The only thing was, no one would buy it. However, Draco would be damned if he couldn't find a way to defend himself.

'Are you kidding? How could I possibly use magic without a wand? And if I had Apparated out of this house, _why_ would I be _here now_?' he spat.

'I think we must ask _you_ the same questions. Anyway, unless you have proof that someone else has done the magic, you will have to accept the punishment. Now if you please,' said the better-looking Ministry officer, signalling Draco to hold his hand forwards. Draco sighed and obeyed. The man also put his hand next to Draco's, pointing his wand at them, and muttered, '_Infragilis vinculum!_'

Fiery wires shot out of the tip of the wand and snaked their ways around their wrists, forming a chain that superficially looked like heated iron.

Then they began their journey from Draco's room to the Apparition point outside the wrought-iron gate, having a rather hard time due to the unequal height of the two bonded people. Draco couldn't help but wonder if Granger might happen to have Seer blood in her after all.

* * *

After the momentary feeling of compression, Draco found himself standing on the damp stone floor of which he realised was the temporary detention room of the Ministry, the bond still attached firmly on his wrist.

'_Liberatio!_' said the ministry officer; immediately, the wires vanished. With another tap of his wand, he conjured a set of prison clothes and told Draco to put them on. Only now did Draco realise that he was still wearing his green and silver pyjamas.

The bulky man had already gone to another room. After a moment or two, he came back with two towering, black-hooded figures gliding behind. They swept towards Draco. With every passing second, he could feel the icy chill piercing deeper and deeper through his skin and flesh, thick white mist threatening to obscure his vision. The only thing he heard was the Dementors' rattling breathing. Draco searched his mind for something, anything that could be qualified as a happy memory but found none. As his legs were about to give out beneath him, two clammy hands wrapped themselves around his upper arms, which went numb either because of the freezing cold or the vice-like grips. The numbness gradually stole over his whole body. He was vaguely aware of being dragged through a very long, dark tunnel.

* * *

When Draco regained consciousness, he found himself on the cold, damp floor of a gloomy prison cell. In the corner of the cell next to his sat two skeletal figures cuddling together, which Draco could tell were a man and a woman. They looked incredibly familiar, but he couldn't make out who they were in the darkness. The woman crawled towards the bars that separated the two cells, lifting up her gaunt face to see him.

'Draco?' she asked, her voice barely a whisper. 'How... Why are you in here?' Tears began to well up in her sunken eyes.

'Mother?' asked Draco, visibly shocked by what had become of Narcissa Malfoy. She was so different from the last time he saw her just a month ago. Draco reached out his hand to touch her, but she suddenly jerked away, a gleam of fear in her eyes, her lips moving in hysterical murmur. 'No, no, no, you're not Draco. You are not my son. He is safely at Hogwarts. You cannot fool me.'

Each of her words was like a dagger driving through Draco's heart. He turned his gaze to the other figure in the cell. As his eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark, he could see his father lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against the wall.

Then without warning, the already dimly lit room swiftly became darker, announcing the arrival of the foul wardens of Azkaban. A Dementor swept forward, its scabbed, rotting hands opening the barred door of the cell as though it were smoke. It swept inside, driving Narcissa against the icy stone wall. Her whole body was shaking, her eyes widening with fear.

'No, my Lord. He's only a child. I'm begging you... Please... Please... Punish me instead...' she choked, her lips trembling. Her voice seemed to echo in the room. Draco just watched, helplessly. In the corner, Lucius was still huddling to himself, undisturbed by what was happening around him, his blank stare fixed upon the ceiling.

* * *

Finally getting bored of Narcissa, the Dementor turned to its new victim. This time, its fellow monsters had joined it, seemingly determined to scatter the only soul that was likely to remain sane in this horrid prison. Draco was drowning in that unnatural, frosty mist once more; the pitch-blackness had engulfed him. He could feel the putrid, icy breath of the Dementors on his face; the death-cold chill penetrating his insides. Over the ragged breathing of the Dementors, he could still hear his mother's choking voice. Draco closed his eyes, waiting for horrible images of killing and torturing to appear, but nothing came. He opened his eyes, but unexpectedly, what he saw was not the utter darkness but the vivid image of his father's blank face and his mother cuddling herself, murmuring in hysteria. Then suddenly, he realised with a pang that it wasn't because the Dementors had no power over him, but because the reality stretching before his eyes was the worst memory he'd ever had. He was truly living in his worst nightmare. A moment later, the Dementors decided to abandon Draco. He had no hope left for them to drain.

**AN: **Thank you for reading, and please review :)

Good luck!

Leo


	3. Jane Doe

**AN:** My thanks to A-Lady, Lin Koorbloh, ohhhskyler, ShellyHale, and voldyismyfather for reviewing the first two chapter.

**Disclaimer:** As you all know, I do not own Harry Potter. And if you're wondering about _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_, I don't own that either.

**Partners – Chapter 3 – Jane Doe**

by **Leopion**

Unsuccessful escape attempts had eventually led to desperation. Hermione decided to try out an idea that she had considered utterly stupid in the first place: Apparating out of Malfoy's house. Quite unexpectedly, it worked and before she knew it, she found herself in the room she was sharing with Ginny at the Burrow. Ginny woke up immediately after hearing the loud 'pop' that accompanied Hermione's appearance.

'Gosh, Hermione! Where have you been? Ron's been searching for you everywhere.'

'At least he didn't look where I was,' replied Hermione sourly.

'Okay, you're right. But you still haven't answered my question,' said Ginny, folding her arms across her chest.

'I... was at somewhere Ron wouldn't expect me to be. Happy now?'

'All right, I won't press you,' said Ginny. 'I understand that you're angry. I mean, if Harry asked me to marry him now, I sure would be freaking out too.'

'So you're not involved in this, are you?' asked Hermione sceptically.

'Certainly not! If I knew, I'd have told him to wait for the opportune moment,' giggled Ginny.

Hermione smiled, feeling rather relieved that at least Ginny sided with her.

'So, do you know where Ron is?' she asked. 'I don't want to run into him anytime soon.'

'Maybe at Grimmauld Place, you know, either whining or sulking over you.'

* * *

Ginny was almost right because Ron did both of the above, alternately of course. He was currently at the whining.

'Can you believe it? I did exactly what it said and she refused!' exclaimed Ron, pacing in front of the fireplace, a book swinging in his hand.

Harry, who had been forced to listen to Ron for nearly three hours, gave a drowsy reply, 'Yeah, I do believe it. And you've said that like a million times this evening.'

'But _I_ can't believe it!' yelled Ron, still pacing madly, his face as red as a tomato.

Finally, fed up with Ron's ranting, Harry decided to get it over with. He stood up from the couch and snatched the book from Ron's hand.

'Hey!' protested Ron. 'What are you doing?'

'Checking if you really followed the instructions, of course,' said Harry dryly.

'You don't believe me? I thought you were my best friend!' shouted Ron in frustration.

'I'm always your best friend, Ron,' assured Harry. 'That's why I tend to offer constructive criticism.'

'Very touching!' remarked Ron sarcastically, but gave up nevertheless. Seeing Harry flipping through the pages, he advised helpfully, 'You should check out Chapter Ten, mate. That's _Irresistible Proposals_.'

'Okay, now... _Irresistible Proposals. Part One: Choosing the Right Moment. _Blah blah number six: _If you two have just gone through a life-threatening experience, it's a golden opportunity to propose._ Did you follow this, Ron? Because if you did, I think you should have asked her right after the Final Battle.'

'Yeah, I did. But just look at the next rule, will you?'

'Ah, rule number seven: _If you are to propose your girlfriend, make sure that you two have officially dated for at least three months (love at first sight or not). Otherwise, she will be scared away_. So you've mixed these two up?' asked Harry, trying hard to stifle a laugh. 'That really sucks, you know.'

'Bloody hell! Is that supposed to be constructive?' asked Ron sulkily.

'Well, maybe not. But listen, mate,' said Harry, struggling to keep a straight face. 'Seriously, I don't think you should apply these... tricks,' he held up Ron's copy of _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_, 'to Hermione.'

'Guess you're right. I bet the author of this book had never thought that one reason for a witch to turn down a proposal is that she hasn't sat her N.E.W.T.s. That is just too...'

'Hermione-ish!' prompted Harry.

'Exactly!' agreed Ron bitterly.

* * *

Harry trudged back to the couch, exhausted. He silently thanked Mrs Weasley for summoning Ron. Unfortunately, no sooner had he tumbled onto the couch did a soot-covered Hermione step out of his fireplace.

'Hello, Harry!' she greeted.

'Morning, Hermione!' replied Harry without any sign of enthusiasm.

'Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up,' she apologised. 'But can I stay here? You know, after what happened last night, I—'

'It's all right, Hermione. Just take your usual room,' said Harry, then he began snoring even before his head hit the couch.

* * *

Hermione was having lunch with Harry in the dining room of Grimmauld Place. She still couldn't quite believe her luck: She'd made it out of Malfoy Manor plus she'd had a whole Ron-free morning. Harry was reading the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ which had been delivered that morning.

'I fant belieeef wey shtil let rita sfeete ork at the proffe,' he commented with a mouthful of chicken. Hermione gave him a disgusted and somewhat confused look. With some difficulty, Harry swallowed all of the food in his mouth.

'I said, I can't believe they still let Rita Skeeter work at the _Prophet_. Uhm, wait, yeah, serves him right!'

'Serves who?' asked Hermione from across the table.

'Malfoy,' replied Harry.

'Malfoy?' echoed Hermione. Did this have anything to do with the _incident_? She hurriedly took the newspaper from Harry. Phew, her name was nowhere to be found, but... Malfoy was arrested? Hermione turned to page ten to read the rest of the article. It was not much information really, just going on about how the Malfoys had always been faithful followers of You-Know-Who (It was ridiculous that they were still keen on not mentioning his name until now. That evil bastard was dead, for god's sake!), and they were now suitably punished. At the end, there was a short paragraph about Malfoy's arrest.

_Draco Malfoy, who was under house arrest for his Death Eaters activities, has been arrested for violating a clause in his earlier sentence. Mr Malfoy, 18, was taken into custody early this morning after a sign of Apparition was detected at his house, the Malfoy Manor..._

They arrested him because she had Apparated out of his house?

'This is not fair,' said Hermione, unaware that she was currently thinking aloud.

'What?' asked Harry incredulously. 'There can't be a more suitable place for him than Azkaban.'

'He doesn't deserve that, Harry,' said Hermione. 'Not for following Voldemort just because his life was threatened. It wasn't something that he asked for, and you know that better than anyone else.'

'But our lives were threatened, too. Did we bow to him? No! Malfoy always had a choice, Hermione,' countered Harry stubbornly, then his eyes narrowed.

'Why are you defending him anyway?'

'I'm not defending him. I just say what I think is right. Why do boys always so easily jump to conclusions?'

She threw her arms up in the air and strode out.

Once back to her room, Hermione threw herself onto the bed and sighed. No matter what Harry said, she still didn't think Malfoy deserved to be in Azkaban. And it didn't help at all that it seemed to be part of her fault that he ended up in there. Okay, she could argue that if Malfoy had let her out, she wouldn't have Apparated out of his house, hence none of these consequences would have happened. But it wasn't his fault that she got locked in his dungeons. It wasn't his fault he was angry at her unkind remark either. Sure, she didn't mean it, but still...

Should she or shouldn't she notify the Ministry about Malfoy's innocence? It was the right thing to do, all right. But it would also produce undesirable outcomes. Hermione shuddered at the thought of what Rita Skeeter might write.

_It is indeed highly questionable what a young girl like Miss Granger was doing at the Malfoy Manor at four o'clock in the morning._

Now _that_ was just the least of her worries.

* * *

After three days of consideration, Hermione made up her mind to go to the Ministry. She told Harry that she needed to go to Diagon Alley to buy some books and supply for the new school year, an effective alibi. She didn't want Harry and Ron to know yet. Actually, she had a plan up her sleeve—it wasn't very potentially effective, to be honest, but still worth a try.

After leaving the house, Hermione went to a café to put some Concealment Charms on her face before heading for the Ministry. As she entered, Hermione found the sparkling fountain was once again taking its place in the Atrium. After asking about where to report on Malfoy's case, she was directed to the third floor. Stopping outside a wooden door with a plaque that read _Bernard Legis, Vice Head of Magical Law Enforcement Squad_, Hermione took a deep breath and knocked.

* * *

'I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but I am not in the position to decide this. Would you please wait for a few minutes while I go ask for permission from my superiors?'

Without waiting for Hermione's reply, the Ministry officer walked out of the questioning room and into a small office, where he strode directly towards the fireplace, scattered some Floo powder, and spoke clearly before sticking his head into the green flame. 'The Minister of Magic's office!'

He was greeted by the Minister's receptionist, who automatically said, 'Good evening, sir. How may I help you?'

'Please tell the Minister that there's Bernard Legis waiting to talk to him.'

'Certainly. Please wait for a few seconds,' said the receptionist as she walked into the Minister's office and came back exactly twenty-three seconds later.

'Now I'll connect you to the Minister's fireplace, Mr Legis.'

Bernard Legis saw the hallway before him blur before turning into a handsomely decorated office. Kingsley Shacklebolt was already standing next to the fireplace.

'Sir, as you had ordered me to keep you posted on Mister Malfoy's case, I am here to inform you about the latest developments.'

'Yes, please continue.'

'Today, a witness has come to my office and claims that she was the one who Apparated out of Malfoy Manor. I have checked her wand with our database. It matches perfectly. However, she refuses to let her identity be known to the public.'

'Who is she? Just tell me, I'm not the public as you put it.'

'Hermione Granger, sir.'

Kingsley seemed to be slightly startled by the name, but then his expression turned thoughtful. After a few moments, he finally said, 'Tell her that if she wants to be a Jane Doe, then she will be, but on one condition.'

* * *

It'd been three days since Draco was sent to Azkaban, and somehow watching his parents' either listless form or insanity seemed to become the most normal thing in the world. It was the way it had to be. The Dementors still visited his mother on a daily basis, but ignored him as though he didn't even exist. Well, they did remember to feed him, to keep him alive. _I will spare your life for a while, to make you watch._ Those sinister words suddenly echoed in his mind. Was fate simply playing the same game with him as _he_ did? As if on cue, a sharp pain shot up his left arm. Although the pain didn't last long, it struck him as odd. Now that Voldemort was gone, it was supposed to be just a mark, a mark that was used to separate the poor innocent chaps under the Imperius Curse from the evil bastards who had served him willingly. Sarcastically, there were much more powerful and terrible things than that stupid curse.

As usual, a Dementor came in, but instead of Narcissa's cell, it stopped in front of Draco's. As the chilly mist began to drown him and his brain was starting to go numb again, he heard it – a cold, high-pitched voice that he had become so familiar with. A flash of green light raced forwards before colliding with another light in the air, causing a mass explosion, and then... nothingness. Everything disappeared as abruptly as it came. The warmness began to come back to him. He looked up to see a silver cheetah hovering above, followed by one of the men who had arrested him.

'There was a witness who came to clear your name this morning. From this moment on, you will be released from Azkaban,' he announced.

* * *

'Shit! He was released.'

'Watch your language, Harry. And who was released?' asked Hermione, trying to sound as astonished as she could, although she already knew the answer to her own question.

'Malfoy,' answered Harry. 'Can you believe it? There was a girl who came to the Ministry yesterday morning and claimed that she had Apparated out of Malfoy Manor. They don't even say her name. Isn't this suspicious?'

'What if it's true? I mean, you never can tell if anyone comes to his house or not. And I'm sure that the Ministry has investigated thoroughly before letting him out.'

'How do you know?'

'I... _guess_ so.'

'Am I talking to Hermione?'

'What?'

'Don't you always want concrete evidence?'

Hermione made a face. If the fact that _she_ was the one who Apparated out of Malfoy Manor was not concrete enough, then she didn't know what was.

'Never mind. You've got letters from Hogwarts... and the Ministry,' said Harry, slightly puzzled.

'Why would they send me letters anyway?' asked Hermione as she took the envelopes, once again desperately trying to fake a surprised tone. There was nothing new, just a formality to officially announce her one-year 'imprisonment' in Malfoy Manor with Malfoy and some details about how they would study from a distance during the year.

'What is it?' asked Harry.

'My sentence to one-year 'imprisonment' in Malfoy Manor!' said Hermione, a rather defeated expression on her face.

Harry's jaw dropped all the way to the floor. 'What?'

'It said that for Malfoy to continue his education while under house arrest, I have been assigned as his study partner, or in other words, babysitter. So I'll be living with him in Malfoy Manor and studying from there.'

'You'll be living with that slim git? Don't worry, I swear if he does anything to you, I'll choke him with my bare hands.'

'You're not afraid of leaving fingerprints?'

'Eh... right. Maybe I'll need to wear gloves,' said Harry with a mock seriousness. They both laughed. When the laughter subsided, Hermione was drawn back to the reality. It was going to be a painfully _long_ year.

**AN:** I hope you enjoyed this chapter. See you next time. And please don't forget to review.

Leo


	4. Arrival

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Harry Potter series. And by the way, Hermione's and Bellatrix's dialogues in the flashbacks in this chapter were taken from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, chapter 23.

**Partners – Chapter 4 – Arrival**

by **Leopion**

August passed uneventfully. Hermione had seen Ron a few times, but that was to be expected. Actually it wasn't as horrible as she thought it would. If Harry or Ginny accompanied them, everything went almost normally. Conversely, there was only an awkward silence when they were left alone.

The first day of September came much too soon, to Hermione's dismay. That morning, she also went to King Cross, not to board the train back to Hogwarts as she had wanted, but to say goodbye to her friends. Looking at Harry, Ginny, and Ron running full speed into the wall that separated Platform Nine and Ten, Hermione let out a heavy sigh before turning to bid Mr and Mrs Weasley goodbye. Mrs Weasley gave her a hug and consoled, 'Everything will be alright, dear.'

'Yes, I wish it would,' was Hermione's soft reply as they parted. If she was grateful to Mrs Weasley for sympathising when she declined her son's proposal, now she was ten times more thankful. Hermione knew that the Weasleys would always consider her family whether or not Ron and she would get married in the future. But that was just too far-fetched at the time.

* * *

Hermione was sitting in the living room of Grimmauld Place, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for a Ministry officer to come and take her to Malfoy Manor. Not that she was in the least bit eager about it. But when all was decided, it would be better to get it over and done with. At first, she thought of this as more procedural than practical. However, come to think of it, the only way she knew to get there was to get thrown into the dungeons, and it was not at all pleasant.

It was not until twelve that Hermione finally heard knocking at the front door and found Bernard Legis standing on the sidewalk, looking incredibly out of place in the Muggle quarter. From their first meeting, she had never exactly liked the man, as he always appeared emotionless whatever the circumstances. They Apparated to a narrow lane bordered by bushes on both sides, though there was a marked contrast between the unruly ones on one side and the neatly manicured ones on the other. The two of them walked quietly along the lane before turning right into a wide drive and stopped in front of an iron gate that was spectacular both in size and design.

Hermione was about to ask the officer how they could get in when he suddenly slid something cold and metallic into her hand, telling her to walk straight through the gate. Whatever this thing was, it had prevented them from ending up in the dungeons. It was only when they had reached the other side of the gate that Hermione had a chance to scrutinise the curious piece of metal in her palm. It was a golden medallion with a capital M in the middle, surrounded by patterns that resembled in style but were more intricate than the ones on the gate. Unable to contain her curiosity, she asked, 'Mr Legis. May I ask what exactly is this thing?'

'Well, it is one of the Malfoy Entrusting Medallions. The Malfoys used to give to their trusted ones so that they could safely enter the Manor. At the moment, they are temporarily under the possession of the Ministry of Magic while Mr Malfoy is still under house arrest. As his assigned study partner, you are allowed to use one of them.'

At the end of the straight drive, they were greeted by a rather tiny house-elf with a lump on his back.

'Master Draco told Knobbly to ask you to wait for him outside, sir,' he said before disappearing with a 'pop'.

A few minutes later, Hermione saw Malfoy appear at the front door. He didn't have the look of someone who had just been to Azkaban, except for the fact that he seemed thinner than usual.

'Mr Legis. Miss Granger. What a pleasure!'

'Good morning!' replied Legis as if he hadn't noticed the sarcasm in Malfoy's salutation while Hermione couldn't suppress a snort. Once again ignoring his company's behaviour, the Ministry officer went on, 'Mr Malfoy, perhaps you would be kind enough to invite us into your drawing room. I have a few things to explain to you and Miss Granger here.'

'Certainly,' answered Malfoy, who had somehow managed to compose a smile on his face.

As Malfoy led them through the hallway, Hermione could feel the eyes of the pale-faced portraits on the wall follow her with apparent distaste. She would have to live with that for the rest of the year, but it was still better than Sirius's mother. Her main concern at the moment, however, lay behind the heavy wooden door ahead.

* * *

Since the momentous night Draco had always avoided setting foot into that room whenever he could help it. But today, despite the fact that it would be unpleasant for both of them, he had to invite her to go in there with him. Draco tried his best to steel himself. Yet the memories came back vividly the very moment they entered.

_His aunt dragged her by her hair to the middle of the room. He walked towards the fireplace, his eyes fixed on the dancing flame, afraid that if he looked up, the gilded mirror on the mantelpiece would show him what he didn't want to see._

'First of all,' said Legis once they had settled themselves on the sofa and armchairs in the drawing room, 'I would like to state that Mr Malfoy's wand will be under the administration of Miss Granger.' Hermione took the wand from him, hands slightly shaking as she looked at the perfectly clean carpet beneath, where just a few months ago...

_'I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?'_

_'We found it—We found it—PLEASE!' screamed Hermione as the knife in Bellatrix's hand made another deep cut into her flesh._

'Although it is completely under your supervision, we warn you against letting Mr Malfoy keep it when you leave the Manor,' continued the Ministry officer. Then he turned to Draco, 'Mr Malfoy, I hope you understand that this is a part of your sentence.'

Draco nodded, but his mind was wandering elsewhere.

_He couldn't believe that he heard Hermione Granger pleading. Someone seemed to wring his heart at her every scream. He wanted it to stop. He wanted to get her out of Bellatrix's clutches no matter how much he hated her, no matter how much of a filthy Mudblood she was. But he stood there perfectly still, just like many times before. Whereas his body was paralyzed by an invisible force, his soul was not._

'As stated in your letters, you'll be allowed to take a break from your duty every Saturday. However, you can still choose to spend it here if you want.'

_The hiss 'Crucio' followed by a terrible scream. He didn't dare look directly at what was happening, but he couldn't escape the sound. And it made him see with his mind's eye. Snap out of it, Draco. She was just a Mudblood. She deserved it. But deep down, he knew that no human being would deserve that. Not her, not anyone._

_The pain seemed to consume her. She was writhing around on the floor, trying to find a plausible answer to Bellatrix's questioning._

Hermione looked up as Mr Legis asked whether they were listening, only to find herself locking eyes with Draco Malfoy. She hastily looked away. Being in this room was hard enough; she didn't think she could handle reliving the memory.

_For the briefest moment that their eyes met, she saw something that resembled fear in his. What he feared, she didn't have time to ponder as another stab of pain threatened to tear her apart._

For the briefest moment, their eyes met. Though her brown eyes no longer possessed that haunting look, Draco wasn't sure if he could keep his calm and collected facade any longer. As she looked away, he stood up and walked towards the fireplace, to a position that he knew would stir up the memory even more. But as long as he had his back to them, no one would ever know.

_Another scream resonated through the room. Draco didn't know what had got into him but for once, he looked back. His light grey eyes met her dark brown ones. They were filled with indignation and resolve, a look that he would never forget._

'I believe that's all you need to know. Do you have any questions?'

There was silence.

'Well, I'll take that as a no. So goodbye and good luck,' said Legis. Draco gave a curt nod while Granger said a polite thank you and bid him goodbye. As Legis left, Draco knew that it was time for him to put his mask back on.

* * *

The Ministry officer had left. Malfoy slowly turned around on his spot to face her, his expression still unreadable. Hermione was the first to begin. No matter how much of a git he was, she still felt an obligation to apologise for what she'd said.

'I'm sorry that your par—'

'I don't need your pity if that's what you're offering,' he said brusquely.

Well, if he put it like that...

'Fine, I was going to apologise for what I've said. But it looks like you don't need it.'

'Let me tell you something, Mudblood,' Malfoy continued with his usual drawling tone. 'One, don't even _think_ that I would be grateful to you for getting me out of that prison.'

'I don't expect anything from you, Malfoy,' she snapped. Perhaps they had come back to almost normal now: he insulting her, she getting back at him.

'Two, whatever happened, this is still my house and I'd rather not have you wandering in the West Wing of the Manor. Are we clear?'

'Don't worry,' replied Hermione. 'I have no intention of exploring your house whatsoever. I don't even have the intention to be here in the first place.'

'Good,' said Malfoy. Then he clapped his hands and called in a commanding tone, 'Knobbly!'

The elf Hermione saw upon arriving appeared in front of them, slightly trembling.

'What... what do you want, sir?'

'Take Miss Granger to her room.'

'Yes, sir,' said the elf before turning to Hermione. 'Miss Granger, please follow me.'

As Knobbly escorted her to the guest bedroom, Hermione asked, 'Your master treats you very badly, doesn't him?'

The house-elf remained silent and Hermione knew better than to press the matter, or else it might result in making the elf punish himself. But once she had settled in her new bedroom, she swore to herself she would put S.P.E.W into action right here in Malfoy Manor, that was, after she'd come to terms with living with Malfoy.

**AN: **I think that's quite enough angst for now. Therefore, the next chapter will contain some humour (or at least some of my attempts at humour). Just to assure you, here's the title of the next chap: _When Hermione hates a library_

And don't forget to review because each reviewer of this chapter will get an imaginary Malfoy's entrusting medallion XD


	5. When Hermione hates a library

**Disclaimer: **I do not own nor claim the Harry Potter series, which belongs to J. K. Rowling.

**AN:** A big thank-you to the ones who have reviewed after the last two chapters, Lin Koorbloh, bringITback, ShellyHale, Anachronistic Anglophile, A-Lady and A. N. Ravencroft.

Now, on with the chapter.

**Partners – Chapter 5 – When Hermione hates a library**

by **Leopion**

If you happen to know Hermione Granger, I bet you have probably put the phrase 'when Hermione hates a library' in the same category as 'when pigs fly'. Even Hermione herself would have to admit to that. What's more, as a witch, she would also tell you that actually you could make pigs fly by using a simple Levitation Charm. On the other hand, making Hermione turn against a library was merely impossible. Draco Malfoy, or rather, his library had proved her wrong.

Hermione's second day at Malfoy Manor started quite peacefully. When Knobbly the house-elf came to lead her down to the dining room for breakfast, Malfoy had already started his meal and seemed determined to pretend that she didn't exist. That was more than fine by her since she had expected to be greeted with some insults. However, Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit weird when Malfoy offered to show her something after breakfast.

'When you've finished your breakfast, I'd like to show you something,' he said, with perfect civility, not even a ghost of a smirk on his face. That had made Hermione come to the conclusion that either she had woken up in an alternate universe this morning or Malfoy's civility was used purposefully to maximise the effect of the fiasco ahead. Quite unfortunately, the later seemed more plausible.

When Hermione had finished her omelette, they exited the dining room, which was on the ground floor, and set off along the hallway. Soon Hermione came to a stop as she realised that they were moving westwards.

'I thought you don't want me to be in the West Wing,' she said.

'This is an exception,' replied Malfoy, who kept strolling leisurely in front of her.

'And why is that?' demanded Hermione, still refusing to follow. There was definitely something fishy going on here.

This time Malfoy stopped and whirled around to face her, looking annoyed.

'The Ministry said that I must allow you to use the library of the Manor as a substitute for the Hogwarts library.'

Hermione's face lit up considerably, 'So we're headed towards the library?'

'As much as I hate to say this, yes. And if you don't shut up and follow me, we'll never get there,' answered Malfoy, once again in an annoyed tone.

'Oh, okay,' said Hermione as she hurriedly followed Malfoy, a spring added to her step. They passed various rooms and corridors in silence before reaching a grand double door. Once they got inside, Hermione gasped. Magnificent was the only word she could think of to describe the Malfoys' library. If there was a reason for Hermione to wish that she were rich, then it was to have a place like this. She ambled about the spacious circular room. All around her, thousands of books were stacked neatly on the shelves, which were mounted higher one after another until they reached the lofty ceiling. The walls of books, however, were interspersed with two grand French windows, where the sunlight streamed in and filled the room. In the middle sat an oval table with many chairs used for studying. Hermione slowly examined the bookshelves. Most of the books on the lower shelves were extremely old despite the new look that they might have shown. She looked up and wondered if all the books in this library were hundreds of years old. It was then that Hermione realised she had no way to get the books on the higher shelves.

'How can—' she had just begun her question as she turned around and caught sight of Malfoy hovering in mid air on a rather peculiar broomstick with some kind of wooden plate at the handle. He was smirking triumphantly when he told her as if it was the most normal thing in the world, 'You have to _fly_ to get to the top.'

* * *

It was quite bizarre to say, but this smirk was one that Draco Malfoy hadn't got to use for quite a while. The arrival of Hermione Granger was by no means pleasant to him. However, Draco had decided to make the most of the situation by making her life miserable. He didn't even have to make an effort to do so because his library had done the job for him.

Just like many other parts of the house, the Manor's library had its own magic and only obeyed the Lord of the Manor's wishes. Each Malfoy generation had his own way of utilising it. His grandfather Abraxas Malfoy, for instance, created a moving spiral staircase while his father commanded the books he needed to come. Ever since Draco was old enough to read, he had yearned for the day he could apply his Quidditch system to this library. Two years ago, his wish was fulfilled as the Manor was automatically passed on to him upon his father's imprisonment. Although he was too preoccupied to feel the slightest thrill at that time, this system certainly came in handy now.

Draco kept smirking while Granger's facial expression had turned from shock to anger. Then he decided that it was time to fuel her anger some more.

'Just say "_exorior_" then a broom will appear. It's pretty easy, considering we both know how good you are at _everything_.'

Her anger did boil up, as he'd expected. What he hadn't anticipated, however, was that it would come in the form of a gigantic book shooting towards him, narrowly missing his head. No wonder why Weasley was brainless, probably because of being banged in the head too much.

* * *

After storming back to her room, silently cursing Malfoy and his stupid library, Hermione was determined not to set foot into that place ever again, no matter how magnificent it was. But her resolve didn't last long: The moment the assignment package from Hogwarts arrived, she knew that she needed that library. Seeing that settling in Malfoy Manor might require time, McGonagall had allowed her to submit the assignments later than other students. However, Hermione didn't want to be late.

So she was once again in Malfoy's library, trying to work out a solution. After further inspection, she was now more than suspicious of the fact that only the ancient books were within her reach. While they were certainly interesting with a capital 'i', they had absolutely nothing to do with all her N.E.W.T subjects except for Ancient Runes. And as much as she'd love to get an O+ in Ancient Runes, it wouldn't do at all if she failed everything else.

Hermione began recollecting all of the spells that might be useful. Well, she could levitate herself so that she could reach the books she needed, that was, until she was actually engrossed in a book and lost her concentration. Then the result would be a resounding thud as she landed on the floor, some broken ribs, and possibly a broken neck. Of course, the losing concentration issue would be solved if she had someone else to levitate her instead, but it still didn't cure her fear of heights. More importantly, the only someone else she could find within a five-mile radius was Draco Malfoy.

Speaking of the devil, he had just appeared at the door with a package similar to the one she'd received. Hermione decided to ignore him and focus on her problem regardless of the tiny voice that kept telling her _he_ was her problem. _Oh, just forget that. Let's consider the other option: 'Levicorpus'_. She could be sure that she wouldn't fall until she deliberately thought '_Liberacorpus_', but being hoisted up by the ankle wasn't exactly a good idea.

Finally tired of pacing, Hermione sat down at the oval table, staring helplessly at the thick envelope that contained her lessons and assignments for the week. Malfoy was zooming idly around the library on his broomstick, looking completely at ease. Every once in a while he would take a book off a shelf and add it into the pile of his reference for Slughorn's Potions essay. Hermione looked in its direction longingly. No, don't get her wrong! She said _its_ as referring to the pile of books, not _his_. That _bloody jerk_ deserved baleful glares, which she had been giving him quite a lot over the past few minutes. Now Hermione did not normally swear even in her thoughts, so that was definitely saying something.

* * *

Hermione decided to spend the rest of her Wednesday in her room, writing her essays with _only_ a trunk of books for reference. That was just a short-term solution; one way or another she would have to find a more reliable source if she didn't want to fail her classes. And then there was the problem with practical subjects. She would certainly need to brew real potions, practise real spells, and struggle with real plants, not just read about them. So on the following day, she had reluctantly set her homework aside to take a tour around the 'non-restricted' area of the Manor to find a suitable room for each of the aforementioned lessons. With Knobbly's help, Hermione had visited almost every accessible room in the East Wing by Saturday afternoon. She picked the Ball Room for Transfiguration, Charms and DADA. One of the guest bedrooms was transformed into a Potions chamber. And since she had to study with Malfoy to supervise his wand-using, she would have to set up a schedule. Luckily, the first Transfiguration lesson was simply revising human transfiguration, which could be done rather quickly right after dinner that night.

* * *

Draco stared at the wand in his hand. Ash wood and unicorn hair. Ten and a quarter inches. Smooth and flexible. His mother's wand. No, it was _his_ wand now. His mother was not allowed to use a wand any more, not that she could even handle one. He quickly pushed the thought away from his mind. He was not going to have a breakdown in front of Granger.

'What's the matter?' she asked, with a quizzical and, dare he think it, worried look on her face.

'Just asking myself what hex would suit you most,' he replied wryly, despite his nearly clogged-up throat.

She scowled, 'I think it's time you stop daydreaming and do your work. We haven't made any progress since the start of the school year.'

Draco swiftly changed his eyebrows into brown and back.

'Happy now?' he asked, then upon second thought added, 'For your information, it is _you_ who hasn't made any progress. I've sent my essay to Slughorn already. And if you excuse me, I still have a Herb—'

'_Expelliarmus!_'

The wand flew out of Draco's grasp and was caught easily by Granger. She gave him a you've-asked-for-it sort of glare as if daring him to retort, but he said nothing and simply walked out of the room. He really did need some time alone.

* * *

Hermione went back to her room, feeling frustrated. She had just finished her first Transfiguration 'lesson'. So what? She glanced at the pile of essays sitting on her desk. She had tried to use every book she had to write them. But the fact that they could be called decent didn't mean that _anyone_ should hand them in to their teachers. Her stream of thoughts was cut off by the sound of something falling from her pocket. Hermione bent down to pick it up. It was Malfoy's wand, or now she'd thought of it, it could have belonged to Narcissa. Was that why Malfoy had stared at it so pensively when they were in the dining room?

She couldn't imagine how she would feel had her parents were imprisoned like his. Not that she didn't want to commiserate. It was just that every time she began to feel any kind of sympathy towards him, he never failed to instantly turn her off, being the prat that he was. However, Hermione had to wonder if it was just his way of defending himself, like the porcupine raising its quills whenever something try to approach. Or maybe she had been thinking too much. The very thought made her want to smile. She was Hermione Granger, after all. The notion reminded her that she had a schedule to arrange. _Hermione Granger must always be an organised person_, she told herself while pencilling in the plan for Monday: 8 a.m. DADA in the Ball Room.

**AN: **Thank you for reading. I'd love to hear your opinions :)

Good luck!

Leo


	6. The deal

**Disclaimer: **After a whole long month, I still don't own Harry Potter. Sad, isn't it?

**AN:** Hi, guys! I'm back, having just survived some really nasty exams *crazy victory dance*. So I'm keeping my promise and update now. Hope you'll enjoy this chappie.

Oh, before moving on to the chapter, I just want to thank: A-Lady, Lady Linaae-Spirit of the Pond, project gotham, and forget-me-not-x for reviewing chapter 5.

**Partners – Chapter 6 – The deal**

by **Leopion**

_Voldemort pointed his wand at Draco's left arm and hissed through gritted teeth. 'Morsmordre!'_

_From the tip of the wand, black curves began to spread on the lily-white skin, forming the figure of a skull with a snake sticking out from its mouth. The Dark Lord did not remove his wand. After a second or so, the newly formed Dark Mark started to glow. Draco could feel it burning more and more fiercely as the colour changed from black to blood red. Then the Mark suddenly cooled off, the burning replaced by what felt like millions of stitches thrusting through his flesh. He bit his lips, trying not to cry out in agony, but as the stitches drove deeper, the pain seemed to consume him. Draco collapsed, unconscious._

_A slim figure tore away from the circle of black-clad forms, hurrying towards the newest Death Eater._

_'Stay where you are, Narcissa!' hissed Voldemort, then he turned to Draco's unconscious form. 'Ennervate!'_

_Draco stirred, more and more aware of his current situation as he regained consciousness. He had collapsed in the middle of his initiation ceremony. It was the first and only time this had ever happened in a Death Eater's initiation._

_The pain in his left arm did not cease. His hands trembled as he attempted to bring himself back to a kneeling position before the Dark Lord. The whole room remained dead silent. Draco slowly looked up at Voldemort, fear overpowering him. To his relief, the Dark Lord didn't appear to be angry. Then again, it was nearly impossible to distinguish the emotions on that monstrous, snake-like face. It curled up in an expression that somewhat resembled a satisfied smirk._

_'Now, I will set you an assignment, Draco,' said Voldemort in a silky yet authoritative tone. 'Can you kill Albus Dumbledore?'_

_Several mouths gasped; Narcissa let out a small wail and rushed forwards, clinging to the fringe of Voldemort's robes._

_'No, my Lord. He's only a child. I'm begging you... Please... Please... Punish me instead...'_

_'SILENCE!' hissed Voldemort. And silence there was, only punctuated by Narcissa's occasional sobs. The Dark Lord returned his gaze to Draco; his bloody slits seemed to pierce into the latter's soul._

_'What do you say, Draco?' he asked._

_'It is an honour, My Lord,' replied Draco, trying the best he could to conceal the fear in his voice._

_The Dark Lord said in his usual high, clear voice, 'You're dismissed. All of you, except Draco. I'd like to have a quick word with him.'_

_When all of the other Death Eaters had fled the room, Voldemort leaned closer to Draco and whispered, 'Should you fail, young Malfoy, I can already see three long, painful deaths awaiting. And maybe I will spare your life for a while,' he paused before saying the last few words with such malice that it made Draco shiver, 'to make you watch.'_

_Draco walked out of the throne room, feeling relieved that he did not have to confront the Dark Lord any longer. Nevertheless, somewhere in the back of his mind, a tiny voice told him that he had just signed his own death sentence._

* * *

Draco woke up and found himself sprawled on his four-poster bed, the sheet tangled in his legs. He could still feel the burden on his chest as though he had just escaped from the darkened room, his breath still laboured and his left arm smouldering as though someone was pressing white-hot iron onto it. Since the weird incident in Azkaban, his Mark had burned several times, but they were just fleeting shots of pain. The symptom became so regular that he had come to accept that he would have to live with it for the rest of his life, surmising that somehow a small amount of magic still remained after Voldemort's death. After all, some things could never be erased.

But these dreams he hadn't had in months; they had stopped haunting him in his sleep after the fall. In fact, he barely slept after that, for his initial relief was mercilessly crushed by the sentence of his parents. Draco had to ask himself if they were really what he thought them—dreams—or were they? Everything was too real, yet it couldn't be happening twice, in that exact same way. He lay there, pondering for what seemed like an eternity but might have as well been just hours before sleep finally captured him in its somnolent embrace.

* * *

Upon setting foot inside the Ballroom of Malfoy Manor, one would immediately experience the ambience of the splendorous feudal days with dancers in fancy gowns and luxury dress robes gliding gracefully across the mirror-like marble floor. Hermione Granger was currently moving around the exact same room, doing anything but dancing. She was pacing to be precise, which she seemed to be doing a lot lately, thanks to Draco Malfoy.

She fumed. What did he think he was doing? He was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. He might have forgotten the lesson. No, that wasn't at all possible unless he had the memory of a goldfish. She gave him the schedule only yesterday evening, _and_ she told him that they had a lesson tomorrow morning. That he'd awoken late was improbable. Since he nearly always had breakfast before she did, getting up on time should not be a problem. She didn't see him come down to breakfast this morning, though. But he could have finished his meal even before she went to the dining room. The only conclusion she could draw was that he would come late or worse, wouldn't come at all _on purpose_.

_Forty minutes late_. Maybe he wouldn't show up after all. Too bad she had promised not to enter the West Wing; otherwise she would find him and curse him into oblivion. Well, maybe not, since she still needed him to continue the lesson. What she couldn't understand, however, was why Malfoy would let pass an ideal opportunity to hex her freely. Sure they would be hexing each other for the purpose of practising defensive magic, but wouldn't it be a perfect excuse?

_One hour late_. Hermione's patience eventually snapped. She decided to go to the library. Hypocrite, you may say, but finding a good ancient book to read was certainly better than waiting for a bastard who would never show up. But well, the bastard did show up in the library, or rather _she_ showed up in the library where the bastard was currently flipping through a book in the most relaxed manner possible.

'Malfoy! What the heck are you doing? We have a class at eight, remember?'

'Relax, Granger! Ever heard of skipping class before?'

'_Skipping class?_ How _can_ you skip a class when there are only two people in it?'

'I just did, didn't I?' he asked with a smirk that drove Hermione completely frustrated.

'This is going to be a whole year, not just a few days. Can't you just give me a break?'

'I _am_ trying to give you a break from having to bear the sight of me,' he replied, rolling his eyes then continued, 'Listen here, Granger! We both can't stand each other, so why don't we just leave the other alone? Just give me my wand, I'll do fine on my own and so will you.'

Now it was Hermione's turn to roll eyes. 'You seem to have _forgotten_ the most important part, Malfoy. I have to supervise your wand use.'

'But no one would supervise your supervision. Why the hell do you need to bother?'

'Even supposing that were true, how do I know you won't do anything to harm me?' she countered.

'Granger, Granger,' he said impatiently. 'I'm not stupid. If I do something to you, the Ministry will find out one way or another; and I'll be off to Azkaban for good. Even living with _you_ for good is still a better option.'

Hermione was slightly convinced, but—

'You get the freedom to use your wand, then what do _I_ get?'

'Tell you what—you give me my wand, I'll rearrange this library so that you can reach the books you need.'

To Hermione, books were always a powerful incentive. She agreed, but not until they had recorded a proper deal (with quite a few precautionary terms she'd managed to add through negotiation), and signed it with their wands. Hermione was well aware that she was dealing with _Malfoy_, not some innocent fluffy bunny.

* * *

Malfoy was right. Not having lessons with him made Hermione's life considerably easier. However, since the library issue was resolved, she had discovered that Malfoy spent a lot of his time in the library, which meant they bumped into each other quite often. So often that Hermione had once considered making a schedule so as not to see him (Only last week, she had to make a schedule to do otherwise.). Their encounters in the library weren't exactly _that_ infuriating. Actually, they were doing fine with only some occasional insults, quarrels and telling each other to sod off. Oddly enough, they had somehow taken it in turns to start the fight.

That particular morning, it seemed to be Hermione's turn as she snorted at the book Malfoy was reading. She didn't mean to, but it bore an incredibly nasty appearance that startled her. On the stained cover (_Was that dried blood?_) were large Gothic letters: _The Arts of Torturing_.

'Malfoy, that book is illegal!' she stated with disgust.

'No, it's not,' he protested. 'It just happens to contain a few illegal curses. That's it.'

'See! Even you admit that it's illegal. And don't you do illegal things while I'm here!'

'I'm not doing anything illegal. Just reading a book…'

'—which is illegal,' added Hermione.

At that, Malfoy pretended to gasp, his eyes wide. 'If reading is illegal, who are you, Granger, the greatest villain of all time?'

'Oh, shut it, Malfoy! I'm being serious here,' said Hermione, her hands on her hips. 'You very well know that I used the clause 'which is illegal' to refer to 'a book', not the whole—'

'Don't think I ever need a grammar lecture from a Mudblood,' snapped Malfoy.

Hermione's blood boiled up at the very word. Stupid racist prat.

'Tomorrow, after visiting my friends, I'll report it to the Ministry that you keep illegal Dark Arts books,' she said sternly.

Instead of getting angry or even worrying, Malfoy simply yawned.

'I'd like to see you try. Besides, it's only illegal when you use the curse on someone, and are seen doing so, and the witness is still able to report it to the Ministry. The chance is pretty slim, you know.'

'We'll see if you can get away with it.'

'Just wait and see!'

Malfoy smirked, twirling his wand; and Hermione got the feeling that she was wrong to make a deal with him, very, very wrong.

**AN: **Draco's up to something, or is he? Any guesses? Anyway, please review.

Have fun!

Leo


	7. Why Can't I

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the Harry Potter series, which belongs to J. K. Rowling. I don't own the song 'Why can't I?' either because it belongs to Liz Phair.

**AN:** To A-Lady, Creative Pixie, Lady Paine, and Lady Linaae-Spirit of the Pond, thanks a lot for reviewing chapter 6. And to all of you, I do hope that you'll enjoy reading this chapter as much as I did writing it. As you can see, the title is taken from the song 'Why can't I?' by Liz Phair. Part of its lyrics will appear, too.

**Partners – Chapter 7 – Why Can't I**

by **Leopion**

When Hermione arrived at the Three Broomsticks the next morning, the pub was packed with people; most of them were Hogwarts students, chattering animatedly to their friends. She paused at the doorway, savouring the warm and convivial atmosphere. Not until then had she realised how much she had missed it. A gentle smile spread over her face. This was it: no more terror; no more losses; they were at a new beginning.

'Hermione, over here!' called a familiar voice, snapping Hermione out of her contemplation. She looked around to find the source of the call. Her eyes finally rested on a small table near the fireplace where her three friends were sitting, Ginny waving at her. Hermione arduously made her way through the crowd, getting herself a tankard of butterbeer before heading towards her friends. She finally reached them and took the vacant seat between Ginny and Ron, who looked a little uncomfortable about this arrangement.

'So, how's it going? Are there many 'eighth' years coming back?' she asked, trying to sound casual.

'Yeah, there are a couple of them. Nearly all of the Gryffindors came back,' replied Harry. 'Only Lavender didn't. Her family's moved to America.'

Hermione seemed indifferent to this information and simply asked Harry about people returning from other houses. Ron still appeared to be more interested in the foam of his butterbeer than the conversation.

'Well, there are Hannah and Ernie from Hufflepuff, and Padma, Michael and Terry from Ravenclaw,' said Harry.

'So I take it that there's no one back from Slytherin?' asked Hermione, sipping at her butterbeer.

'In fact, there are,' said Ginny with unconcealed aversion. 'Parkinson and Zabini.'

'Well, at least we don't have to endure Malfoy,' commented Ron, speaking for the first time. He immediately earned a glare from Ginny and a nudge from Harry.

_'Oh, yes, he is for me to endure,'_ was what Hermione intended to say as a sarcastic reply. But somehow her lips pressed together in a thin line, which kept her from saying anything and gave her the look of someone who was extremely angry.

'Oh, Hermione, don't listen to what he said,' exclaimed Ginny. 'We're _all_ sorry that you have to live with that git.'

'Thanks, Ginny,' answered Hermione automatically, her lips miraculously unsealed. But there was no such thing as a miracle here; she had a theory. Keen on testing it as soon as possible, Hermione made a not-so-apt excuse that she needed to use the bathroom.

Once she stood in front of the mirror in the ladies' room of the Three Broomsticks, Hermione began saying a few chosen lines out loud. The first was, '_Draco Malfoy is a slimy git._' For the second time that day, Hermione felt as if her lips had been glued together. Though when she continued with the next line (_There's only eight months left until the N.E.W.T.s._), it came out without any effort. After several other tries including saying the same sentence (_I absolutely hate him_) twice, once thinking of Malfoy and once thinking of McLaggen, Hermione had verified her theory: Malfoy had hit her with something similar to the Tongue-Tying Curse that Moody used on Snape last year. However, instead of binding her tongue, it sealed her lips so that she couldn't say anything Malfoy-related. Well, maybe he had succeeded in preventing her from reporting to the Ministry, but that didn't mean she couldn't give him payback.

* * *

'Ronald Weasley,' said Ginny, outraged. 'How many times do I have to tell you that this is an opportunity for you to try and make up with Hermione?'

'Ginny's right,' agreed Harry. 'And last night you admitted that you wanted to get back together with her.'

'Yeah, right. But why do _I_ have to _try_?' opposed Ron angrily, attracting quite a few curious stares. He dropped his voice. '_She_ was the one who left me sitting there like a moron!'

'You _were_ a moron, Ron, proposing to her as early as that,' snapped Ginny before giving Ron an extremely Mrs Weasley-ish glare. 'You'll either act more reasonably towards her and ask her out to that café, or you'll receive a Bat Bogey Hex. Are we clear?'

'Not if she doesn't try to make up with me, first,' mumbled Ron, though he really did not fancy being attacked by giant flying bogeys.

* * *

Hermione made up her mind to forget about Malfoy for the time being and enjoy her friends' company. She definitely wouldn't let him ruin it for her. When she came back to their table, Harry and Ginny appeared to be leaving.

'Gin and I, uhm, we have to go to, uhm, somewhere,' said Harry, giving Hermione an apologetic smile.

'It's no problem, really,' replied Hermione, not wanting to get in the way of her friends' date.

'We're sorry we can't stay with you longer,' said Ginny. 'Maybe some other time, then. Bye, Hermione!'

Harry left the pub with Ginny, sending Ron a quick wink as he went, which didn't escape Hermione's notice. After all, Harry and Ginny could see each other everyday; so apparently, they wanted to give Hermione and Ron some time alone using a date as cover.

'Well, there's only us left now,' said Hermione nervously. She waited for Ron to respond, hoping he would say that he regretted proposing to her too soon or something. However, Ron remained silent. Not wanting the silence to stretch on, she decided to start. She genuinely wanted to fix their relationship, and after all it was also her fault for not letting him down gently instead of walking out like that.

'Whatever happened, let's just forget it and start over, okay?'

'So we're cool?' asked Ron, seemingly pleased.

'Positively,' said Hermione. Ron hesitated for a moment then asked, 'Harry and Ginny have gone on a date. Do you think that we should, you know?'

'Go on our own date?' asked Hermione. Ron nodded, a tint of pink on his cheeks.

'Okay, then,' she replied with a smile. 'As long as you don't take me to Madam Puddifoot's.'

They finished their butterbeers before going to a newly-opened café, which—according to Ron—was owned by a Muggle-born and therefore had Muggle music playing instead of wizarding songs like 'A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love' by Celestina Warbeck.

'You don't like wizarding music much, do you?' he asked as they entered.

'No, I don't. It's very thoughtful of you, Ron,' said Hermione, though she silently wondered if this was the result of a thoughtful Ginny rather than a thoughtful Ron. She felt good, nonetheless because she had learned to accept Ron's tactlessness as a part of him in spite of the fact that sometimes it still annoyed her to no end.

They settled in a table near the window; Hermione ordered a strawberry flan and a cappuccino while Ron asked for waffles and black coffee. After a few minutes of talking about lame topics such as the weather, sensing that the tension between them had eased, Ron began, 'I haven't had a chance to ask. So how's your life at the slimy git's house?'

Hermione stopped eating her flan to reply, but a piece of the cake had _somehow_ found its way to her mouth to make her choke instead of answering the question. It must have been the effect of Malfoy's curse.

'Are you okay?' asked Ron worriedly, patting her on the back.

'I'm alright,' she answered with some difficulty. Once Hermione had regained her composure, Ron repeated his previous query.

'Everything's fine,' she said to him, having remembered that she could not speak of Malfoy. Ron wasn't really satisfied with Hermione's vague answer, but she added, 'There's nothing significant to say, really. Why don't you tell me about Hogwarts? I really miss it.'

At this, Ron realised that it was better to let it go, so he started by telling her how all of the 'eighth' years were now living in the Room of Requirement since it was the only place that could provide them with enough space without altering the castle too much. Before long, they found themselves laughing together at the pranks caused by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' new products, both enjoying the fact they could talk normally again as well as being glad that George had eventually started recovering from the loss of his twin.

Hermione tuned out as Ron began ranting about how spectacularly the Chudley Cannons had won last weekend. The lyrics of the current song caught her attention: _'Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you?'_ This reminded her of Malfoy at once. How could the words in a song reflect their situation so well? Indeed, she could vividly see his detestable smirking face floating in her mind. Too busy fuming over Malfoy, she didn't realise that Ron had stopped talking.

'Hermione, are you listening?' he asked.

'Oh, yes. I just got a little sidetracked by the song.'

Ron didn't look so happy, but still managed a smile. 'A nice song, innit? Told you that they play really good Muggle songs here.' Hermione also returned a rather forced smile and told him to continue. Soon, she lost her concentration again when the singer repeated the chorus.

_'Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you  
Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you  
It's inevitable, it's a fact that we're gonna get down to it'_

_'Of course, we'll get down to it, you bastard!'_ muttered Hermione under her breath but no sound came out.

'You're still not listening,' stated Ron, clearly annoyed. But then something dawned on him. 'You refused to talk about Malfoy when I asked. Does this have anything to do with him?'

'No, it's nothing,' she shook her head calmly, despite the urge to scream that in reality Malfoy was driving her nuts.

'There's definitely something bothering you. Tell me what's wrong,' he repeated, his deep blue eyes full of concern before darkening. 'If he did anything to you—'

'No, I just feel a little unwell, that's all,' she interrupted; Ron's caring manner had made her anger instantly disappear. She had always been secretly touched by Ron's burst of outrage whenever Malfoy insulted or did something to her, but she always needed to stop him from getting into trouble.

Now that she thought of it, she herself was acting rather repulsively around Malfoy lately, and she was letting it spoil her date with Ron. Perhaps the stress due to being unable to come back to Hogwarts and the temporary isolation from everyone else was worsening her mood, just like when she was plagued by too much schoolwork back in third year. If only she could try to stay more cool-headed… But apparently she couldn't as the chorus was repeated yet again. So Hermione found it best to go back and confront Malfoy now. She could make it up to Ron later.

'You're still not feeling well?' asked Ron one more time; Hermione still seemed unfocused.

'Uhm, Ron. I'm sorry but I think I need to go back and rest,' she said.

'You sure that Malfoy has nothing to do with this?'

'Yes, absolutely,' she lied. 'Goodbye, Ron. I'll see you next week, I promise.'

Still feeling guilty about leaving in the middle of their date, Hermione leaned across the table to give him a peck on the cheek before standing up and walking towards the door. The song was still playing loudly. The owner of the café seemed to enjoy it as much as to turn on the repeat mode, and now it had started all over again.

_'Get a load of me, get a load of you  
Walkin' down the street, and I hardly know you  
It's just like we were meant to be'_

_'Enemies,'_ supplied Hermione silently as she stepped outside.

**AN:** Wow, lots of Ron/Hermione lately. But don't worry. This fic definitely is Dramione and I will get rid of Ron soon. Quidditch accident? Potion explosion? Or a burst stomach resulted from eating too much? Which one do you think is better? Just kidding. We'll say good bye to Ron and go back to our beloved Draco in the next chap, though.

See ya,

Leo


	8. SPEW and VOMIT

**Disclaimer: **I do not own nor claim the Harry Potter series, which belongs to J. K. Rowling.

**AN:** A big thank you goes to Enilas, A-Lady, DayDreamerGirl4life, and Emery Wright for their lovely reviews.

Oh, and after seeing 50% of the reviewers asking me not to kill Ron, I feel the need to announce that Ron will, in fact, live happily ever after with someone he loves (not Hermione, of course).

**Partners – Chapter 8 – S.P.E.W and V.O.M.I.T**

by **Leopion**

Nearly four hundred miles away, Draco Malfoy was just starting his breakfast. Quite undesirably, he had adopted a new routine for the past week. Every night he lay awake for hours and fell asleep only to be drowned in terrible dreams. He woke up with his Dark Mark burning before finally drifting off again. He was unable to get up until ten the next morning. Why did his Mark seem to gain but not lose power over time? He wasn't sure. Even when Voldemort was not completely gone, his father's Mark, as he said, remained dormant for years after the end of the First War. This had led him to speculate that there was more to the Mark he bore than that of other Death Eaters. Was it some kind of wicked punishment that Voldemort had put on him? His search through Dark Arts books over the past few days proved fruitless. He had read about nasty curses and magic which disgusted him just to think of them, yet there was no such spell that could last long after the caster's death. That was... unless they'd transferred part of their power into the object. But why would the Dark Lord want to do that to _him_? And how far would it go beyond the pain that he currently experienced?

That particular Saturday, however, Draco set aside those worries to enjoy the fact that Granger was out. The only disadvantage of her not being present in the Manor was that he couldn't keep his wand. He didn't need to whine over the fact, though. He knew for sure she would be back soon enough. He simply wondered how long she could stand his curse. It wasn't something drastic, but still enough to frustrate people. He developed it from the old Tongue-Tying Curse to use on Crabbe and Goyle in Sixth Year so that they couldn't let slip what he was forcing them to do. Come to think of it, he didn't have to put that much thought into shutting them up. Just a Tongue-Tying Curse would do. Who would get suspicious if idiots like Crabbe or Goyle suddenly went wordless anyway? But with Granger, it was a completely different matter. He marvelled what would ever make her silence plausible.

He didn't have to wait for long. Only a few minutes later, Granger stomped through the door of the dining room and glared at him with her most menacing glare, her lips set in a thin line, her face pink with anger (or the effect of his curse). At that instant, Draco allowed himself a victorious smirk and enjoyed keeping her standing there speechless for a while. However, he didn't want to get carried away lest it resulted in bodily harm.

* * *

Upon arriving at Malfoy Manor, Hermione headed for the dining room with the reasoning that sooner or later, Malfoy would have to go there to have meals. Then again, he could command the elves to bring food to his room (yet another way of exploiting and mistreating house-elves). But there was no other way she could find him in this extensive place. Counting on seeing him in the library was even more hopeless because as far as she knew, no Hogwarts student (except her) ever took interest in the library on Saturdays.

She walked into the dining room and—for the very first and possibly last time in her life—was glad to see Malfoy. It was then that it struck her that she couldn't exactly say anything to Malfoy without referring to him. All she could do was glaring daggers at him while he repeated that despicable smirk.

'It was you who dared me to stop you from reporting,' he said as if answering to her silent question. 'Give me my wand and I'll undo it.'

Hermione hesitated, but obeyed nonetheless. She had no other choice.

'You've broken our deal,' she said as soon as he'd lifted the curse, trying to convey calmness in her words. She didn't want to get all ballistic in front of Malfoy again and let him derive pleasure from watching her freaking out.

'Your point?'

'I have to get your wand back since that deal's no longer valid,' declared Hermione coolly, satisfied to see that Malfoy was a little taken aback. To prove her point, she summoned her copy of the deal and read aloud a clause at the near end. 'If I fail to comply any of the terms above, this deal will immediately be invalidated and Miss Granger will have the right to take back the aforementioned wand whenever she wants. Signed, Draco Malfoy.'

'So which terms have I violated exactly?' he enquired, unwavering. It gave her the impression that a few minutes ago he was shocked by the way she stated the termination of their deal rather than the fact itself. But she did not falter. If he was going to play a game of equanimity, then she would take up the challenge.

'I will not use any form of magic in order to harm Hermione Granger,' she quoted another clause with confidence.

'You're aware that with me signing this by my wand, my own wand won't allow me to do anything against the deal, aren't you?' he asked.

'You could have done something to neutralise it,' she said matter-of-factly.

'Very well, Granger. You always have to believe the worst of me, don't you? (She simply frowned her agreement.) But it happens that I'm capable of no such thing. It's just a little wording talent that helps,' he said, once again smirking. 'Tell me Granger. Does 'stopping someone from talking about certain topics' ever mean 'harm'?

'It does when it makes someone choke on her flan cake,' replied Hermione grimly, but she regretted the moment it came out. Malfoy definitely found this amusing.

'But it's just a side-effect,' he chuckled. 'I didn't cast the curse _in order to_ make you choke.'

This time, Hermione was literally speechless. Draco Malfoy: 1 – Hermione Granger: 0. She'd thought she had been careful when making this deal, but apparently she hadn't. As a result, she was going to have to live with everything stated in it, including loopholes. Hermione made a mental note to check for any other loopholes as soon as possible. Besides, if she'd made a mistake, so might have Malfoy. Perhaps she could even use it against him later on.

There was still an unsettled matter that bothered Hermione, though. She knew that if she showed interest, she would undoubtedly lose another point to Malfoy. However, curiosity got the better of her.

'What was that curse you used? As far as I'm concerned, it wasn't the Tongue-Tying Curse.'

'No, it wasn't,' answered Malfoy, slightly surprised by her sudden change of topic. 'It's my derivation of the Tongue-Tying Curse. As you probably have noticed, it makes your silence seem more natural.'

'You've invented a curse?' asked Hermione incredulously.

'A touch of genius, I'd say,' he responded.

Had he been someone else and had the situation been different, she would probably agree and then ask him how it was done. But all she did was walk out of the room, determined to get revenge. No, that was not entirely true. She did also wonder about Malfoy's ability to invent curses and how exactly he created that particular curse.

* * *

After studying every single word of the contract, Hermione couldn't find any loopholes that could be used to her advantage. Thankfully, there were no other loopholes that could be used to Malfoy's advantage either. Now she'd just have to be more careful of spells, curses, hexes and jinxes that couldn't be defined as 'harmful', which were quite diverse.

To make matters worse, she now had to meet Malfoy more often as they both needed to spend much of their time in the Potions chamber. On Monday morning, they received their assignment as usual. What was unusual, however, was that Slughorn seemed to suddenly consider teamwork an essential skill to master to be a true Potioneer. Therefore, they were set with a mutual project to brew Veritaserum, Felix Felicis, Polyjuice Potion, and Amortentia to hand in to Slughorn by the end of the year. Sure enough, they found a way to not brew them together. Malfoy suggested that they divide the tasks, but Hermione didn't want to entrust her grade (or part of it) to 'a bouncing ferret'. Malfoy scoffed at her comment and told her to do it all, but she didn't want to let him receive the reward of her work without doing anything himself. In the end, they came to the compromise that both would make all four potions then pick the better-made ones to submit.

Other than that, there wasn't much happening lately. While waiting for a revenge opportunity to present itself, Hermione settled on making progress in S.P.E.W. In fact, she had already been to the kitchen several times last week, getting to know the house-elves. It appeared that Knobbly was the one whose duty was to directly serve Malfoy's requests. About twenty other elves worked only in the kitchen or cleaned the house without notifying anyone of their existence. At first the elves were suspicious of her friendly demeanour, but they were finally on good terms now. The only obstacle to her plan was that all of the house-elves seemed to be extremely scared of their master. To them, the idea of a revolution for freedom was, as Fluffy said, 'the most ridiculous way to suicide'.

Hermione wouldn't give up easily. She reckoned that with an organisation to support them, the elves would have more faith in rising against their master. Therefore, she had made expanding S.P.E.W. her second priority next to persuading the house-elves. That was why Wednesday morning found Hermione Granger in the recreation room, knitting S.P.E.W. socks and making S.P.E.W. badges. She'd chosen this room as it was, in her opinion, nearly the most comfortable room in the entire mansion. For one thing, even though the room was decorated with green and silver like the rest of the house, the arrangement of furniture and the presence of a rather large fireplace still provided a relatively cosy atmosphere. For another, despite the grandiose piano and music player (which, judging from the nature of the Malfoys, were just for the sake of showing off), Hermione could actually picture this might be a place for a family to gather and entertain each other.

As if to testify to the cosiness of the room, she had dozed off and found herself nearly twenty minutes behind her own schedule. Not wanting to waste anymore time, she set off to the library without going back to her room to put away her S.P.E.W. items (she already had quills and parchments with her and books in the library to study with, so she didn't need to take anything else from her room). While rushing down a corridor leading to the library, Hermione crashed into Malfoy, who apparently had just exited the aforementioned location. Her bag slipped off her shoulder and fell to the floor; everything inside was dispersed all over the place, most of the items printed with the word 'S.P.E.W.'.

'Spew?' sniggered Malfoy. 'I never knew you had such a bizarre obsession, Granger.'

'My interests are none of your business, Malfoy,' replied Hermione as she bent down to collect her belongings. Malfoy still did not want to drop the matter.

'To tell the truth, I thought you must be interested in something more mud-related,' he sneered. 'But it seems that your taste is even _fouler_.'

Hermione pretended not to have heard him and continued picking up her things. She was resolved to stick to her not-making-rash-actions-and-waiting-for-revenge strategy no matter what.

'If you're so into that sort of thing,' Malfoy added while stepping over her badges to leave, 'vomit definitely sounds catchier than spew.'

Vomit? Now her Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare was compared to vomit. Acronyms... Maybe she should have chosen a word that contained some of the most important letters before making up the rest of the name. _Wait a second._ V.O.M.I.T. Why hadn't she thought of it earlier? Hermione glanced at the delicate M of the Malfoy crest on one of the doors in the corridor then resumed her journey to the library, a devious grin playing on her lips.

**AN: **Once again, sorry for the hibernation of this fic.

Hope to see you soon.

Leo


	9. Contrast

**Disclaimer:** This will be the last time I say this in this fic: I do not own Harry Potter. Guess what, Jo called me the other day and said that she was gonna transfer the authorship of the series to me. We'll just have to meet up and finish some documents before I can officially own HP. Nah, just kidding. Why does J. K. Rowling ever want to do that? Not to mention it's legally impossible. Anyway, you all know that HP doesn't belong to me, so there's no point in repeating it over and over again, right?

**AN: **Finally, I am able to update again as well as getting all of the old chapters revised with the help of my fabulous beta Olga. The revision was only about grammar, spelling and wording, so it's not necessary to reread the old chappies. Anyway, I'm terribly sorry for all the waiting.

On another note, happy Valentine's Day to you all (and Happy Lunar New Year too if you care about this event). I swear this is totally unintentional (it's just that I've been dragging my feet so long that I won't be able to stand the extra guilt if I let you guys wait any longer.). So this chapter won't be a Valentine's special, I'm afraid (according to _Partners_'s calendar, it's only September 19th 1998, that is *coughs* Hermione's birthday *coughs* too many special days around here :P). But it's still the longest chapter I've written so far, so... enjoy.

**Partners – Chapter 9 – Contrast**

by** Leopion**

Hermione tapped her wand absently on each of her V.O.M.I.T. badges while debating with herself whether she still wanted to carry out this plan. It had sounded exceptionally good at the time, but when coming to this phase (placing a charm to make the words flash and glow), she suddenly realised that it was about as immature as what Malfoy had done in their fourth year with those 'POTTER STINKS' badges. A side of her was mentally scolding herself for stooping so low while the other was still screaming for revenge. In the end, her revenge-hungry side succeeded in convincing her that when dealing with the devil, one must use devilish methods.

The following morning, Hermione walked into the Potions chamber with her chest held high, bearing a black badge with glowing red letters: V.O.M.I.T. Malfoy greeted her with his usual sneer. 'Finally decided to take my advice?'

'Oh, yes,' she replied. 'It's a good advice, really. Especially coming from _you_.'

Malfoy seemed intrigued by her reply, but still kept his usual jeering tone.

'So, what does this little club of yours do? Still hopelessly fighting for the freedom of house-elves?'

'No, that's the aim of S.P.E.W. This one focuses on something entirely different.'

'And what would that be?'

Hermione didn't answer, instead pressed the badge on her chest; and it began to flash separate words in different colours: Voluntary Organisation of Malfoy's Intense Taunter.

Hermione could swear that for a fleeting second she saw Malfoy's face fall, though he regained his stoicism almost immediately.

'Interesting,' he drawled and began striding towards her side of the chamber. 'But with this witty mind and dashing good looks of mine,' smirked Malfoy, running his slender fingers through silvery blonde hair. He was now bending over her stalk of Potions reference books in a quite... distracting manner. 'I doubt anyone would want to taunt me, not that they could,' he continued, clearly enjoying the effect he had on her.

Hermione shook her head to get rid of her unhealthy thoughts and managed a retort.

'Don't worry. Any Gryffindor would love to join, especially Ron and Harry.'

'Really?' Malfoy narrowed his inscrutable grey eyes. (_Oh, God! She had to stop thinking of him like this._) 'You think Weasel the Poor will be able to afford the membership fee?'

'Oh, I'm quite sure he will,' she answered, smiling as the conversation finally went back to her safe territory.

'Must be terribly cheap, then. A Knut for a lifetime?'

'No,' she smirked. 'It's actually "Kicking a Malfoy's arse then you can join for a lifetime".'

Malfoy didn't make any remark this time.

* * *

Looking up from her thirty-inch (but supposed to be ten-inch) essay on antidotes, Hermione was slightly disappointed to see a huge ash-grey owl instead of Pigwidgeon as she'd expected. The owl was scratching impatiently at the windowpane. Although not at all excited to see what it brought, Hermione hurried towards the window, wanting to get rid of the annoying sound as soon as possible. As she opened the window, the owl stretched out his leg, which was marked with the seal of the Owl Office, to show her a small envelope. Hermione was surprised to see her mother's handwriting. Ever since recovering their memory, her parents had been rather distant and replied to her letters without much enthusiasm, let alone taking the initiative to write. She eagerly tore open the envelope after throwing the owl some nuts from her drawer to keep it occupied.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Your aunt Heather was able to find us a house sooner than we'd thought, and that's why we've already been back to London. Do you want to visit our new home and have lunch with us on your birthday? I understand if you prefer celebrating with your friends, but if you agree we'll pick you up at King's Cross at 9 a.m._

_Mum and Dad_

Hermione sighed. Her parents' words were still not quite as warm as they used to be, but at least this was a start. She couldn't exactly blame them for not accepting what she had done. She had reasoned that it was for their own good. However, there was no denying that it hurt their feelings to have forgotten their own daughter even just temporarily. Hermione's thoughts were disrupted by a hoot from the Owl Office owl, apparently getting impatient again after finishing his treats. She quickly scribbled a few words to her parents, saying that she'd be waiting at King's Cross at nine on Saturday morning and gave it to the owl, which flew away almost instantly.

Her joy at receiving her parents' letters didn't last long as she realised that by agreeing to come home this Saturday, she would fail to keep her promise to Ron. She thought of sending him a letter at first then decided against it. Hogwarts was located much farther from Wiltshire than London, so the letter might not be able to reach him in time; and she certainly didn't want Ron to think that he was being stood up. This left only one means of wizarding communication: the Floo Network.

The Ministry notice she received prior to arriving at Malfoy Manor had stated that after she got there, they would reopen the Floo Network to the Manor for her use (It was still monitored against Malfoy, of course.). However, Hermione suspected the Manor itself also had certain kinds of wards to restrict the use of its fireplaces. She wondered if the Entrusting Medallion would get her past, but didn't want to try. The result would most definitely turn out ugly if it didn't work. In short, only Malfoy would be sure about how she could use the fireplace, and she knew that he wouldn't be cooperative at all, especially after the V.O.M.I.T. incident. That was why she decided to try calling Knobbly first.

'Please tell me, Knobbly, do you know if I can use the Floo Network here?' she asked, careful not to make him feel like it was a command.

'Miss Hermione can if she is knowing the password,' replied Knobbly.

'Do you know what it is?'

'Knobbly is not knowing, Miss,' he shook his head violently, crushing her faint hope. Hermione sighed; she had to ask Malfoy after all.

'Knobbly, could you do me a favour?' she asked, feeling extremely guilty about making use of the poor elf.

'Anything, Miss Hermione.'

'Please tell your master that I need to talk to him. I'll wait in the library,' said Hermione, trying her best to overlook the fear sparkling in Knobbly's eyes at the idea of popping up to his master's room without being summoned.

* * *

Malfoy showed up in the library with the usual scowl on his face. 'You realise what time it is, don't you, Granger?'

'I need to use the Floo Network, Malfoy,' she stated shortly.

'What for? Can't wait to draw people to your little club?'

Hermione looked down at her shirt. She had forgotten to remove the badge after dinner. She had been wearing it all day merely to annoy the hell out of Malfoy. After getting rid of it in a rather irritated manner, she turned to Malfoy with a serious face.

'Should I remind you that the Ministry has—'

'Fine,' he snapped. 'I'll tell you the bloody password.'

'So?' asked Hermione expectantly.

'The password is...' he trailed off.

'The password is what?' she demanded, not noticing his change of expression in her own rush to get this over with.

'Narcissa,' he whispered, his voice somewhat cracked.

'Oh...'

Hermione felt her stomach churn uncomfortably. Before she could bring herself to say anything else, Malfoy was gone, leaving her staring blankly at the moonless sky outside. With her thoughts still dwelling on a certain Slytherin, Hermione got to her feet and made her way to the recreation room where she could use the fireplace. As she grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and threw it into the dancing flames, it glowed red and warped itself into a shape of a face.

'Password,' it bellowed, glaring at her.

'Narcissa,' said Hermione, finding herself unable to pronounce the name any clearer than Malfoy did.

The flame face softened at the word before disappearing completely into a familiar shade of green.

'Hogwarts eighth years' common room,' she called out before kneeling down and sticking her head into the flickering flame. What greeted her was not much unlike the Gryffindor common room: a room filled with small, round tables and squashy armchairs. The only difference was that the decorating colours belonged to all four Houses. All the occupants of the room at that moment rounded up in front of the fireplace as soon as they spotted Hermione's head. Although there weren't many of them as it was rather late, she was still practically bombarded with greetings and questions.

'Thanks, guys, but I'm kind of hurried at the moment. Does anyone see Ron?'

'He's in the dormitory. Let me go fetch him,' offered Neville before rushing out of sight.

When a drowsy Ron came down the boys' staircase, the common room soon became nearly deserted since everybody seemed to be sensible enough to let the couple have some time of their own.

'Bloody hell, Hermione. Why do you have to call me so late?' grumbled Ron.

'Well, I've just received a letter from my parents. They're already back in Britain and...' she paused.

'That's wonderful, but does it have anything to do with me?' asked Ron, raising an eyebrow.

'They wanted me to come home for lunch this Saturday, so I think we must... cancel our date.'

'Are you kidding? It's your birthday and I've been doing every bloody thing to make it perfect for you, and then you just cancel it for a bloody lunch at your parents!' said Ron angrily. He practically yelled the last few words.

'They are my _parents_, Ron. And last year I almost lost them,' she yelled back, already on the verge of tears. All her guilt about breaking her promise with Ron completely evaporated. How could he be so inconsiderate? Not staying to wait for Ron's reaction, she withdrew her head from the fireplace and went back to her room. That night, Hermione found it impossible to sleep with too many things on her mind: her anger with Ron, her feelings for Draco Malfoy, and the nervousness before meeting her parents.

* * *

Draco had heard someone say that the thing about heartache was that it hurt anywhere you go. It was not entirely true, or at least not true to someone like him, someone who had learned to hide his feelings so well that at times he could even fool himself. That was why places played a crucial role to Draco, because no matter how solid his facades might be, they always had their limits. Sadly enough, everywhere he was forced to go these days served as a reminder to some extent. It had taken him months to get used to living in his own house again. Day after day, his immunity against certain places grew stronger: first his room, then the dining room, then the library. Now they had turned back to normal once more... almost.

However, there were places that he still couldn't bring himself to return to, yet he didn't want anyone to disturb the way they were. Consequently, he had forbidden Granger to enter the West Wing—the very part of the Manor that he was afraid to explore himself lest the memories buried there penetrate his numbness and wound him anew. He had forgotten one room, though—the only room in the East Wing that held such an important place in his heart. But that was a story for another time.

Draco knew that he couldn't keep hiding forever. After all, he had to go into his father's study that day. A few days ago, when all the Dark Arts books in the library turned out to be useless, he finally felt impelled to search for Darker books in the study. But with Granger staying in the Manor, Draco felt as if his privacy was invaded even though he knew that she would keep her promise to leave him alone in the West Wing. Only now when Granger had gone out with her little friends did he eventually end his concealment, or perhaps waiting for her to leave was just an excuse to procrastinate. He placed his hand on the doorknob, feeling a kind of static running through his entire body: The door had yet to become familiar with his new master. As the sensation ceased, he turned the doorknob and stepped into the place where he hadn't been for so long.

* * *

As Hermione saw her parents getting out of their new car, she simply wanted to rush to them right away, but approached rather slowly instead.

'Hi, Mum! Hi, Dad!' she greeted, feeling the somewhat strained atmosphere between them.

'Good morning, dear!' responded her mother before becoming seemingly at a loss for what to say next. She turned to her husband as if willing him to chime in, but he merely stared at their daughter. Hermione fiddled with her hands nervously.

'Hermione, we didn't mean to be too harsh on you about... that other matter,' he finally said. 'But we just don't want you to endure everything yourself.'

'Just know that we're always by your side,' added her mother softly.

'Oh, Dad... Mum...' squealed Hermione, hugging both of her parents, who returned the hugs warmly. 'I've missed you so much.'

'We've missed you, too,' replied her mother, her voice muffled in Hermione's massive mop of hair. At this, Hermione found tears of happiness rolling down her checks. When they finally drew back, she could see that her mother was wiping away her tears as well.

'Let's get back home, ladies,' said her father. The family got into their car, Mr Granger at the wheel while the two females took the back seats. Before Hermione could fasten her seatbelt, a mass of ginger fur jumped onto her chest.

'Crookshanks?' she exclaimed. 'Did you bring him?'

'No, he must have sneaked into the car when we were not looking,' answered her father with a wink.

'He seems to miss you, too, dear,' her mother observed. 'Why don't you bring him back with you?'

'Eh, Mum, Dad, I was going to tell you...' Hermione hesitated, worrying that her parents would think that she had been hiding the truth from them. 'You must know that I'll never want to shut you out of my life again.'

'It's okay, dear. What is it you want to say?' asked her mother tentatively; her father didn't say anything, but Hermione could see his concerned face through the rear-view mirror.

'I'm not at Hogwarts at the—,' said Hermione before suddenly being plunged forwards. Her father had nearly missed the red light. 'I'm still continuing my studies, Dad,' she added, knowing her father's sensitivity when it came to academia (Her mother had always teased that it was hereditary.).

Her mother chuckled. 'Let's talk about it once we're safely at home, shall we?'

Her father let out a nervous laugh while Hermione gave her mother a sheepish grin, Crookshanks still purring contentedly on her lap. She had truly had her family back; all they needed now was to make up for the lost time.

**AN: **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks for reading. I'd be even more grateful if you could just leave a review, too.

Perhaps the next installment will be next month. Sorry, I'm kinda caught up in Draco Big Bang right now :D

See you soon!

XOXO,

Leo


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